


Oh, If the Astrals Were Not Dicks

by Forest_Girl



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Begging, Biting, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Body Swap, Bondage, Crying, Cunnilingus, Dacryphilia, Face-Sitting, Fucking Machines, Gags, Hand Jobs, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Lingerie, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mind Control, Multi, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Spanking, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Punishment, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink, Will primarily focus on the Chocobros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-16 03:02:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16077005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forest_Girl/pseuds/Forest_Girl
Summary: Oh, if only responsibilities and expectations were not as hard as they were. Oh, if only everyone could find a happy ending. Oh, if only the world were like a shitty porno, where no one had to care about anything except getting fucked. If only, if only, if only...((AKA: my participation in Kinktober 2018, which will hopefully be completed and grant me experience with writing porn.))





	1. Directory

**Author's Note:**

> Am I good at writing porn? No, not at all! Do I want to get _better_ at writing porn? Definitely! Which is why I'm doing this.
> 
> Before you get reading, please take a moment to read this part of the Author's Note:
> 
> \- Some prompts have been moved around for certain days due to me feeling uncomfortable writing certain kinks but wanting to accomplish a full 30 days of writing NSFW works. As such, certain days may not align _exactly_ to the 2018 list, BUT all the kinks selected were from this list: https://kinktober2018.tumblr.com/post/171107184776/kinktober-2018  
>  \- The first chapter acts as a directory for the entire collection, listing the specific kink from the list being written for (in bold) and the pairing for it (in parenthesis)  
> \- The directory, tags, and pairings will be updated with each new chapter.  
> \- If additional kinky shit happens in the chapter, or I feel there needs to be a specific warnings for the chapter's content, they will be in the Author's Note for that chapter. **If there is an Author's Note at the beginning of the chapter, please take the time to read it beforehand to see the full scope of what the chapter will contain.**
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope my mediocre skills will satisfy your horny needs ;-)

Day 1:  **Face-Sitting** (Luna/Gentiana)

Day 2:  **Ass Worship | Begging** (Gladio/Prompto)

Day 3:  **Knife Play**  (Prompto/Ignis)

Day 4:  **Spanking | Dacryphilia (Crying)**  (Gladio/Noctis)

Day 5:  **Fucking Machine** (Prompto/Ignis)

Day 6:  **Biting**  (Ignis/Noctis)

Day 7:  **Body Swap**  (Gladio/Ignis/Prompto/Noctis)

Day 8:  **Prostitution/Sex Work**  (Prompto/Noctis)

Day 9:  **Bondage**  | **Lingerie**  (Ignis/Noctis)


	2. Day 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Face-sitting, cunnilingus, _slight_ sensation-play (nails lightly tracing over skin)
> 
> There's a bit of lore before the porn and I'm SORRY but I have so many headcannons for the Messengers and what they're actually meant to be so I infodumped my own personal explanations for them OTL.

There were only a scarce few that ever met a Messenger in their lives, and even fewer that knew what a Messenger’s true purpose was. They existed to enact the will of their patron Astral, which varied, but was typically doing some form of menial task. Gentiana had heard of Ramuh’s messengers complaining about how they had to make sure that their rain would not cause certain rivers to flood on certain dates, as that would interfere with both Leviathan’s _and_ Titan’s wills, and they would send their messengers, and a “holy feud” would erupt between the three gods.

Truly, Gentiana was relieved that Shiva’s will was not as complex and interlaced with the other Astrals. However, Gentiana would have liked Shiva to give her a more concrete will to act upon.

The Astrals’ duties, as trivial or complex as they could be, were distinctly designed to not anger the humans, so that their wrath would not build over millennia to a severe degree. Messengers were not to interact with humans, unless they were specifically instructed to, or they were Bahamut’s.

(Bahamut’s messengers almost always ended up interacting with humanity to aid the Crystal’s chosen. Almost every messenger came to suffer pain and heartache upon their death, and were dismissed by Bahamut due to their grief blinding their actions, as they vowed to take revenge against such a cruel god.)

But Shiva? Shiva loved the humans, and she herself could easily take care of the winter’s snowfall, and the brief flashes of cold that would come in the late fall. Shiva gave her Messengers a simple instruction: provide happiness to humanity.

Over the centuries Gentiana had served under Shiva, she’d done many things. Making a little girl’s wish come true, providing a brief sprinkle of snow, whisking people away from troubled pasts, troubled places. Oh, yes, Gentiana had done many, _many_ things.

She had not done this.

Gentiana laid back on the bed, beckoning her charge to the bed. Lady Lunafreya stripped her dress and undergarments as she made to Gentiana. They smiled, gentle, not needing to exchange words. At this point, it was a familiar song and dance.

Lunafreya climbed on top of Gentiana, and the Messenger reached up, brushing her cheek. Luna leaned into the touch, closing her eyes, then moved higher. Her legs framed Gentiana’s face, exposing her wet folds.

Gentiana lifted her head, her tongue tracing an outline, and Luna shivered atop her. Gentiana ran her fingernails gently down Luna’s thighs, and Luna’s breath hitched, her hips twitching as she refrained from thrusting against Gentiana’s face.

Time fell away from them, with Gentiana gently tracing Luna’s folds, sometimes dipping her tongue further in and making an obscene slurping noise. She paid special, close attention to her clit, sucking and kissing and flicking her tongue. Luna became more and more unraveled, her breaths leaving in low moans, her hips gyrating more and more, pressing Gentiana’s head into the bed. Her ministrations didn’t let up—if anything, they grew more fervent—and Luna let out one long moan as her entire body trembled from orgasm.

Lunafreya hastily drew back, rolling off of Gentiana gracelessly. Gentiana rose, brushing Lunafreya’s hair from her sweaty skin, tucking the Oracle under the covers and remained by her side as she fell into a dreamless slumber.

Yes, Gentiana had done many things to provide happiness to humanity, but she had never taken such a personal joy as with pleasing Lady Lunafreya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haHA I don't know how vaginas work but I also didn't know wtf else to do for the starting chapter WHOOPS


	3. Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Ass Worship, Begging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, slight Dom/Sub undertones but not a lot.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

Prompto took a shaky breath through his nose and out his mouth, resting his head on his arms. Gladio hummed above him, kissing his sweaty shoulder, then gently pressing him into the mattress. The air Prompto managed to gather left him in one long moan, and his hips canted against the soft blankets. “Just a bit longer, Prompto.”

Prompto weakly shook his head, rutting furiously to try and finish. He and Gladio had been going for _hours,_ and while Gladio had gotten to come, Prompto hadn’t—had been told he’d be punished if he came before Gladio said so—and the mounting need was driving him insane. His brain was melting, every part of his body hyper-focused on his cock, and every sensation seemed to key him higher.

With a grumble, Gladio pulled Prompto’s hips up so that he couldn’t get any friction. Prompto cried out, scrabbling at the covers as he tried to get out of Gladio’s hold. When Gladio shifted his grip to be one-handed, Prompto thought he could pull away and _finally_ get to cum.

Prompto yelped when Gladio’s hand smacked against his ass. He froze, processing the sharp pain, and hissed when Gladio’s stubble brushed against his heated skin. Gladio licked and kissed his cheeks, nipping at the skin around his cleft. Prompto moaned and tried to buck, just barely brushing against Gladio’s arm, but it was nowhere near enough stimulation.

“Gladio, _please.”_ Prompto begged, trying to push himself up on his weak arms and look over his shoulder to meet Gladio’s gaze. “Please, please, _please,_ I need to—need to come, _please…”_

“And ignore this beautiful piece of meat?” Gladio smacked his ass again, kissing the small of his back as if to smooth the sting. “Not a chance.”

“Please, please, _please,”_ Prompto chanted wetly into his arms, spreading his legs and pushing back against Gladio. Gladio chuckled, there was a pop, and a lube finger circled his hole. Prompto sobbed, then whined when Gladio refused to push in, thrashing in his hold. “Gods, _please_ Gladio, I need to cum, please!”

Without warning, Gladio shoved his finger in, and Prompto opened his mouth in a silent moan. Gladio twisted and curled his finger, and Prompto moaned again when Gladio found his prostate. Soon a second finger was added, then a third, and finally Gladio pulled his cheeks apart and teased Prompto by just pressing the head of his cock against his hole. “Now, what do we say?”

Prompto grit his teeth and glared over his shoulder. “For the love of the Astrals, fuck me already!”

“Not quite.”

“Gods, Gladio, please—!”

Gladio thrust in, cutting of Prompto’s sentence. He started off slow, taking his time to go in and out, in and out, and Prompto shoved himself back to the best of his ability while clenching down. Gladio moaned against the back of his neck, and his thrusts sped up, practically ramming him into the headboard.

Prompto’s litany of moans became higher pitched when Gladio took hold of his cock, frantically jerking him off. Prompto’s nails scratched against the sheets, and he didn’t know if he wanted to pull away from Gladio’s hand or shove himself further onto his dick. Gladio hooked his chin over Prompto’s shoulder and practically growled into his ear, “Come, Prompto, come.”

Prompto practically came on command, his vision whiting out as he lost track of reality. When he came to, he was on his side, cum dripping out of his ass and Gladio spooning him. Prompto made a mumbled noise and flailed, managing to turn around and press his lips against Gladio’s collarbone. Gladio chuckled and ran his fingers through Prompto’s hair, which Prompto greatly approved of and leaned into. “C’mon, let’s get you into the tub.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I love Promptio. I kinda wanted to also include rimming, but I'm doing that for a different prompt later in Kinktober so... look out for that ;)


	4. Day 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Knifeplay (obviously), very very _very_ lightly implied OT4, under discussed kink, nipple play, hand jobs, blow jobs.

Prompto, as Ignis had learned over the many years of proxy, struggled with subtlety of all forms. He typically rambled to his heart’s content, which lead him to accidentally divulge in various, minor secrets. He struggled to hide his crush on Cindy, his claustrophobia, and his… _admiration,_ to say the least, for the four of them.

But Ignis was much more perceptive than his companions. He saw how Prompto’s lingering gaze on Gladio’s muscles after a grueling fight, broadsword hefted over his shoulder. How Prompto’s attention would drift from his photographs to Noctis, sharpening his swords. How often Prompto would volunteer to assist with dinner, only to nearly burn or mishandle what he was working due to him being completely captivated by his cutting work.

He could connect the dots. But still, it certainly didn’t hurt to double check.

The next time they stopped in a motel, Ignis purchased two rooms—one for Gladio and Noctis, the other for him and Prompto. He could see the question as to why dancing in their eyes, but no one wanted to question the sudden splurge if it meant everyone got their own bed, and they weren’t cramped in one room.

He gave himself and Prompto a bit of time to stretch from the long car trip, to breathe and start their usual nightly routines. When Prompto went to shower, that’s when Ignis began preparing, grabbing a vial of lube from his satchel, and an old pair of his knives from the Armiger. They were from the beginning of the road trip, and hadn’t been used in a few months. They were also brilliant for what he had planned, as they had no elemental magic infused in them, and were easy to dull while Prompto got clean.

When Prompto came out of the shower, towel wrapped around his stomach, he froze. He watched Ignis with rapt attention, the repetitive motion as he dulled the sharp edge, the constant hiss of metal scraping against metal.

“Doing some last-minute weapon maintenance?” Prompto tried to joke. In any other circumstance, Ignis would have brushed it off as simple nervousness from the context. But he saw a flush to Prompto’s cheeks that couldn’t entirely be blamed on the shower’s hot water, and the way he not-so-subtly adjusted his towel, and the way he brushed his wet hair out of his face.

Ignis stood, twirling one of his knives in his hand, watching Prompto’s eyes follow the glinting metal. He drew closer, his steps slow and measured, and though Prompto didn’t back away he visibly tensed. Prompto’s eyes flicked between the knife in Ignis’ hands, and Ignis’ face, as if expecting him to drop the act and say that this was all a joke.

But Ignis drew closer, until there was barely any space between them. Ignis raised his blade to Prompto’s throat, and the younger man took a cautionary step back, then another, and another, until his back hit the bathroom’s wall. Ignis matched his pace, making sure the knife was barely pressing against Prompto’s throat, just enough to brush the few, thin hairs.

“W-What are you doing?” Prompto’s voice trembled, but the blush remained high on his cheeks, and his pupils were dilated, practically swallowing the blue iris.

“Do you want me to stop?” Ignis asked and pulled the knife back—perhaps he’d misjudged.

But Prompto made a strangled noise, and hastily grabbed Ignis’ wrist, keeping his left hand on his towel. “N-No. No! I don’t. Just… this is really sort of sudden? We don’t… do _you_ want to stop?”

“Not at all.” Ignis mused with a slight smirk, bringing the knife back so that it rested on Prompto’s pulse point. Prompto snapped his mouth shut, a visible shudder passing through his body as he met Ignis’ gaze, violet irises nearly consumed by his pupils. “Now, hold still.”

Prompto did, barring a few shivers as Ignis’ free hand trailed down Prompto’s still-wet chest. With his free hand, Ignis pried Prompto’s fingers from his towel, the cloth falling to the floor and exposing Prompto’s half-hard cock. With a light, teasing grip, Ignis stroked Prompto’s cock, reveling in the light moans and whimpers that came forth.

With a devious grin, Ignis maintained his slow ministrations while trailing the tip of his knife down Prompto’s neck, tracing his collarbone, circling his nipples. Prompto’s moans increased, hips twitching like he wanted to rut against Ignis’ hand, but unable to while standing up and the knife pressed against his chest. Prompto’s head thumped back against the wall, panting harder, the sounds he made growing more and more desperate the more Ignis moved his hands.

Ignis stopped playing with Prompto’s nipples, now dragging the edge of the knife down Prompto’s stomach, brushing against the collection of blonde curls at the base of Prompto’s cock. When he gently, carefully, pressed the knife’s edge against Prompto’s dick, he moaned and seized, and Ignis had to dismiss the knife to the Armiger to prevent Prompto from hurting himself as he came.

Cum splattered against Ignis’ hand, on his clothes, on Prompto’s own heaving chest. Ignis hastily grabbed Prompto’s arms, easing him to the floor as the aftershocks worked through him. Ignis wiped off as much cum as he could, but his shirt and pants were hopelessly stained, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything until they were in a nicer hotel to clean them. A minor casualty on the journey to discover his lover’s kinks.

A few minutes later, Prompto had roused himself enough to sit up properly and look him somewhat in the eyes. “Wow. That was… _wow.”_

“I hope that means that you’re adequately satisfied.” Ignis quipped. “Unless you’d want a second go.”

“No, I’m good. _Waaay_ good.” Prompto looked at Ignis’ crotch, and he adjusted his legs so that they blocked the slight tent in his pants. “Lemme repay the favor.”

“That’s not—” _Necessary,_ Ignis wanted to say, but Prompto had already clumsily leaned over and unzipped Ignis’ pants and pulled them and his boxers down enough to free Ignis’ cock. He licked the tip, catching the bead of precoma that had formed there. Ignis slapped his hand over his mouth to hold back his noises, fearing their neighbors would hear his desperate noises as Prompto slowly eased himself to the base of Ignis’ dick, his lack of gag reflex helping him as he sucked.

Ignis came almost as embarrassingly fast as Prompto did, both of them sitting on the floor, stunned as they basked in the afterglow together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I WROTE A CLEAN 1K OF PORN WTF
> 
> I... this isn't my biggest kink either. The chapter that had a LORE DUMP was shorter than this. What the hell...
> 
> Uh, anyways, hope you all liked the Promnis knifeplay stuff??? Be prepared for more intense stuff with these two bc that's how I always pictured their relationship being (both of them liking really, _really_ BDSM, high-risk high-reward stuff) so... yay!


	5. Day 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Spanking, crying, punishment, no sex, awkward boner
> 
> Additionally, **Noctis is technically underage in this chapter** (around 16-17 years old) **but due to him and Gladio not engaging in sex, I did not add an underage tag to the warnings.** If someone requests me to, I will.

Training Noctis had always been a pain in the ass, but _Astrals,_ today was just not good for anyone.

The day before, Clarus pulled Gladio out of his bed at the crack of dawn to train with some of the new Crownsguard. After getting home _long_ past dinner and starving half to dead, he discovered Iris, sick with the flue, kneeling over the toilet, puking her guts out. Gladio wasn’t about to leave her alone, so he stayed up all night holding her hair back and keeping her company, making them some toast to try and help her keep something down.

And now, Noctis was being a complete and utter juvenile _ass,_ laying on the ground, refusing to do even a basic workout of a few laps and some weight lifting.

“All you need to do is one gods damned rep, and then we’re done for the day!” Gladio glared down at Noctis, who was laying back against the weight lifting machine, blankly staring at the fluorescent lights.

“I _told_ you already, I’m tired.” Noctis moved, but it was to stand and shoulder check Gladio as he made his way to the lockers. Gladio followed him, practically nipping at his heels, grabbing Noctis’ shoulder and spinning him around.

“This isn’t hard. Why are you making this a fucking chore?”

“Oh, fuck off.” Noctis took off his workout shirt and opened his locker, tossing it in. It was only then that Gladio realized he hadn’t even changed his pants—he was wearing a normal pair of black skinny jeans that Gladio had seen him wear when walking around the arcade with Prompto.

Growling, Gladio grabbed Noctis by his neck and shoved him down over the locker room’s bench. Before Noctis could protest, Gladio grabbed the waistline of his pants and boxers and pulled them down to his ankles, chafing Noctis' skin and exposing his bare ass to the cold A/C.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” Noctis shouted, flailing as he struggled against the iron grip on his neck and push himself up while simultaneously reaching back to pull up his pants.

Gladio put a quick stop to that by bringing his free hand down, _hard,_ on Noctis’ ass. The prince choked on his own spit, coughing as he struggled to process the sharp pain that faded into a tingling burn. Before he could recover, though, Gladio struck the other cheek, even harder.

“You,” _Smack._ “are such,” _Smack._ “a little,” _Smack._ “shit!” _Smack smack smack._

“Fuck!” Noctis breathlessly shouted, now trying to crawl his way off the bench. However, stunned from the various blows to his ass and covered in sweat, he couldn’t get a solid grip and get away from Gladio’s relentless strength. Gladio watched him struggle with a small amount of satisfaction, watching Noctis’ ass turn cherry red from how many times he’d hit him.

Huffing, Gladio pulled Noctis up from the bench by the back of his neck. The Prince flailed, grabbing his pants and pulling them up, hissing as the fabric brushed against his reddened skin. Tears ran down his cheeks, dripping from his chin, plopping onto the tiles. “Are you done?”

Noctis grit his teeth and glared. “Fuck you.”

“You want another round?” Gladio shook Noctis by his neck, grabbing at Noctis’ wrist.

With a frantic expression, the prince shook his head. “No!”

“Then what will happen the next time you come down here for training?”

“I’ll…” Noctis sighed and looked away. “I’ll do the reps you tell me to do.”

“That’s right. And if you _don’t,_ we’ll have to do this all over again. Are we clear?” Noctis nodded, and Gladio dropped him, reveling in the startled yelp that left Noctis’ lips. “Good. Take a shower, then get the hell out.”

Noctis clambered to his feet, glaring over his shoulder before limping to the showers. Gladio waited until he heard the water running to sigh, subtly adjust his pants so that it hid the slight bulge, and leave for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFW u write a chapter that's more M rated bc you don't want to add an Underage tag in the content warnings bc Noct's probably closer to 16/17 in this chapter YIKES
> 
> But yeah. I don't _mind_ spanking or anything like that. Just didn't want Gladio and Noct to do the do when one of them's underage and in a time where they're emotionally volatile idiots that would probably sooner snap the other's neck than fuck them.


	6. Day 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega!Prompto, Alpha!Ignis, Prompto is in Heat, sybian, bondage.

Ignis traced his finger down the cook book’s page, skimming over the instructions and double checking how long the meatloaf had to cook for in the oven. A good half hour, then he’d need to check that he hadn’t overcooked it.

More than enough time, in Ignis’ opinion.

He cleaned up the kitchen, taking any spare spices and cut vegetables and placing them into small plastic bags to place them in the freezer for later. He cleaned off the cutting board, his knives, the meat mallet, and placed them in the sink’s soapy water. His apron and cooking gloves were folded and placed on the table to be put with the load of laundry he was planning to do tomorrow morning. He slid the meatloaf into the oven, already preheated, and set the timer for thirty minutes, stepping back to admire his work.

Ignis strolled down the hallway, stopping at their bedroom’s door. Even with busying himself with cooking, having gentle orchestral music playing while he worked, he could still smell his omega’s vanilla smell cloying in the air, and hear his pitiful whines. A part of him felt that he should have blocked the bedroom door, somehow, if only to keep temptation at bay by blocking out Prompto’s alluring scent and sounds, but he certainly didn’t regret doing so.

Pushing the door open, Ignis nearly stumbled back as the scent of Prompto’s heat hit him full force. Prompto’s skin was flushed, chest heaving, a layer of sweat shining in the weak light from the hallway. His eyes were wide open, pupils dilated, as he stared at Ignis like he was an Astral incarnate. Despite this, Ignis could see a faint glaze over his eyes, the heat having fully consumed his mind, his body, leaving him prey to his base instincts. They’d been together for a year now, and Ignis knew that the second day was always the worst for Prompto.

As such, Ignis needed to be responsible for both their wellbeing; making sure they ate, drank, slept, were as clean as they could possibly be, that they were excused from their duties for the heat’s duration. In another month’s time, Ignis would be weak to his own instincts with his rut, and Prompto would return the favor.

Still, it took a lot of effort for Ignis o pull away and prepare them food. Usually, Prompto needed to be tied down, or thoroughly sated by one of Ignis’ knots. However, for this heat, Ignis had decided to be a bit… _creative_ with distracting Prompto.

The omega sat upon a sybian, the settings constantly changing due to the small, wireless remote Ignis would occasionally play with in his pocket while he cooked. His legs were shackled to the sides of the machine, and his wrists cuffed to his ankles, keeping him flush to the sybian. His nipples were caught between two clips, a chain dangling between them. His lips were slick with spit, a rubber ball gag between them, barely stifling his desperate, begging moans.

“Hello, pet.” Ignis managed to keep himself composed, the sight of Prompto alone nearly making him collapse. “I trust you’ve been keeping yourself occupied?”

Prompto leaned forward as much as he could, an incomprehensible stream of moans and sounds leaving his lips as he tried to beg. His cock was still hard, despite the puddle of come dribbling down its length, then trailing down the sybian’s sides. Despite this, they both knew the sybian was only a distraction, and that Prompto could come as much as he wanted but feel no relief. He needed an Alpha’s knot to be able to relax, to breathe, to have a moment of clarity to function somewhat normally.

Ignis glanced at his phone’s screen. He still had about twenty-five minutes until the meatloaf needed to be taken out of the oven. That was more than enough time for him to fuck Prompto senseless, fill him with his knot, and be able to separate and put the final touches on dinner.

All that he hoped for was that Prompto’s libido would decrease substantially enough for him to enjoy a good, hearty meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time writing A/B/O stuff. God, I should really just write a fic about the boys trying (and failing) to court each other.
> 
> I made the sybian in the fic wireless, but I'm like 99% sure no such thing exists, so just... pretend that they do.
> 
> Also, I know this is gonna sound dumb, but do Sybians count as fucking machines? Cuz I looked up images of fucking machines and _wow_ all of them look hyper uncomfortable and I couldn't think of anything else besides having Prompto be tied to a chair with a vibrator suction cupped to the seat and shoved up his ass idk.


	7. Day 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Vampire AU with Vampire Ignis, Biting, Bloodplay (it's more so blood drinking but idk if that counts), possessive thoughts, slight mind control, kidnapping.
> 
> There's also background Promptio happening but it's barely there at all and you'd have to squint to see it properly.

Ignis had spent the better part of an hour scouting the bar, and was getting close to the point where he’d simply give in, find a homeless person, and drain them dry.

No one, absolutely _no one,_ was appealing to his tastes. Prompto, another from his coven, was much less picky (he’d take anyone who wasn’t as fat as a pig, and had a distinct liking for those of muscular builds, perhaps because they underestimated him), and Ignis was envious. Almost immediately entering the bar, Prompto had spotted a “perfect match.” The man was taller than even Ignis, built taller by his bulging muscles, eyes a bright amber, hair long and brown, swooping tattoos coating his arms and hiding under his shirt. Prompto slid next to him, coaxing him out into the back alley, eyes glowing with the hints of a thrall.

Perhaps Prompto would drain him, perhaps not. Ignis would place money on the latter, seeing how lovestruck Prompto appeared with his catch.

But Ignis had rather _particular_ tastes _._ He particularly liked negative bloodtypes, and would settle with A or B in a heartbeat _(ha)._ AB was out of the question—far too bitter, and it left an awful aftertaste that was impossible to ignore for weeks afterwards—but O was the holy grail, sweeter than any ridiculously unhealthy treat humans consumed, but rare to find.

And then their personalities had to be factored in. Couldn’t be too loud, couldn’t be too obtrusive, had to be somewhat clean, had to be educated. If Ignis went to a bar, they had to be a tad tipsy but not blacked-out, as too much alcohol tainted the blood’s taste, and would inebriate Ignis. Some in his coven liked fattening their own blood bags with wine until they were so dizzy they couldn’t lift a finger, then drink to their undead heart’s content. It reminded them of better times, or tempted them with a life they could never have.

But tonight was a horrible night. For some inane reason, Prompto had dragged him out to a local bar, refusing to let him go to the high-end club Ignis frequently hunted. A large sports game of some kind that he couldn’t be damned to care about was on the TV, and the bar was filled with plenty of prey that Prompto adored. Plenty bulky men, dressed in sports jerseys, already pre-gamed and making their way to completely blacked out and ready to brawl if their choice team lost.

And not a single soul with an ounce of wit, the smell of beer and sweat permeating the air and making it impossible to tell an AB+ from an O-. Prompto was long gone with his prey of choice, while Ignis had been stewing in his hunger for well over an hour now, more than ready to give up and simply steal from a nearby hospital.

A loud shout made Ignis jump, and a warm body slammed into his back. A fight had broken out behind him—whether due to something that happened in the game or simply a drunken argument gone wrong, Ignis couldn’t tell and didn’t care—and a bystander had fallen into him. He had a pure black ensemble, not a single sports logo in sight, and out of all the patrons here, he reeked of alcohol the least.

Ignis’ eyes narrowed, and he knew his eyes flashed crimson. He was hardly at a point to complain about his meal tonight, and fate had just dropped the perfect morsel into his lap.

“Are you alright?” Ignis laid it on thick, immediately weaving the boy in his thrall. It would drain him and make him thirstier, yes, but it would be well worth it to ensnare him now rather than waste time and effort flattering them, buttering them up, being discreet and subtle to lull them into a false sense of security. It is clear neither of them belong in this rowdy area any longer, if the fight behind them is any indication. There is a time to revel in the hunt, and there is time to feed.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” The boy grumbled, holding his face. A bruise had begun to form, staining porcelain skin, and Ignis could practically see his cheek throb in time with his pulse. “Fucking Gladio, ditching me right after half-time.”

“Sounds like a rather idiotic man.” Ignis managed to say over the brawl, pulling the boy towards side exit. “Perhaps we should leave?”

“Perhaps we should.” And the boy, trusting him, willingly followed Ignis’ pull. Ignis couldn’t accredit all of it on his thrall—the fight had spread to include almost half the bar, and the boy did truly want to leave, even with a complete stranger. However, the thrall kept the boy from questioning why Ignis did not let go of his hand, and why he felt so comfortable in Ignis’ presence, despite only having spoken two sentences to each other.

It also kept the boy from questioning why Ignis had pressed him against the wall, and why everything felt so, _so_ arousing, but that was merely a side effect.

“What’s your name?” Ignis asked breathlessly, fangs growing at an alarming rate, eyes burning crimson as he was so, _so_ close to what he needed. The thrall would, hopefully, hide everything well enough so that the boy wouldn’t fight him off.

Ignis mentally scoffed. As if, at this point, the boy would be able to fight him off, with Ignis so desperate to quench his thirst and both of them being barely an inch apart from each other.

“Noctis.” The newly dubbed Noctis pressed up against Ignis, rutting his hips against Ignis. With Ignis being so thirsty, he wouldn’t have been able to get hard, even if he wanted. Physical pleasure could come after he satiated his needs, but he could certainly aid Noctis in becoming far more relaxed and pliant. “And yours?”

“Perhaps another time.” Ignis mumbled, unzipping Noctis’ jeans and pulling his erection free from his boxers. “For now, let’s focus on what we _need.”_

Noctis only moaned, head thumping against the brick wall as Ignis stroked him, thumbing his slit. Noctis panted, shamelessly rutting into Ignis’ hand, moaning loudly as the thrall removed most of his inhibitions. Ignis smirked, nipping along Noctis’ jawline, delighting in the enthused response. He lowered himself to Noctis neck, lathing it with his tongue, before finally biting down.

Noctis convulsed in his grip, cumming the moment Ignis’ fangs pierced his flesh. The venom coating his fangs had sent him into ecstasy, his thoughts blinking out as pure pleasure literally ran through his veins. Ignis drank greedily, pinning Noctis to the wall as much as he could. He nearly pulled away in shock at the sickeningly sweet taste that hit his tongue before his mind narrowed down to _blood warmth life delicious drink drink drink._

Noctis was an O-. The rarest of the bunch to find completely untainted and completely at his mercy. Noctis clumsily slapped at Ignis, trying to push him off, the thrall fading away as Ignis’ mind completely focused on simply feeding, but there was no room to fight, and Ignis had already drank enough to make him weak.

He was tempted to drain Noctis dry; to overindulge and satisfy the craving deep within his instincts. But he knew—gods did he know—that someone like Noctis was an incredibly rare find, and he’d never be able to fully ensnare someone as well as he had with him.

So he drank, and drank, and drank until Noctis fell limp, only held up by Ignis pushing him against the wall. Ignis pulled his fangs free, licking over the two puncture wounds and sealing them closed. He slung Noctis over his back and clambered up the walls and to the roofs, his strength and vitality restored.

Ignis loved hunting. He loved discovering new prey, the entire process of making these lesser-minded beings bend to his will and give him what he needed.

But he loved keeping prizes even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exposing myself as the filthy vampire slut I am WOO BOY


	8. Day 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Awkward conversations, Body Swap. For simplicity's sake, here's the simple key of who swapped with who:
> 
> Noctis <-> Gladio  
> Prompto <-> Ignis

 “A writhing mass of swirling pink mist, it was?” Noctis nodded, trying to not look so intimidating, which was hard when he was a solid two-hundred pounds of muscle, covered in tattoos, and taller than everyone around him. The four of them managed to stumble their way out of Malmalam Thicket without running into any other monsters, and they decided to stop by the House of Hexes to see if Kimya had any special potions to fix their… _problem._

“Kept moving around, made it hard to kill. Right before it died, it… exploded, I guess, and we passed out. When we woke up, we were all swapped around.”

Waking up in Gladio’s body, seeing Gladio stumble around and hold his back in pain, was weird. Even weirder was seeing Prompto act completely composed and together, and Ignis panicked and flighty. Really, it was a miracle that they made it out of the Malmalam in one piece, given that all of them were walking like they were drunk and couldn’t hope to wield their weapons properly.

Kimya hummed, closing her eyes. “Make a cure, I cannot. However, easy to fix, this curse is. Money and ingredients, it does not require.”

“It’s that easy?”

“It is, indeed. If you will, a moment.” Kimya turned and entered her hut, returning with an old, wrinkled paper in hand. The monster they’d fought was drawn at the top, with the bottom being filled with scribbled handwriting. “The Amomuta, the daemon is called. A misty form of bitter smell, it takes. Foul humans reeking of negativity to feed upon, it finds. Upon death, swaps its vanquisher forms with another, it does. Lucky it was only between you four, you are.”

“Damn.” Noctis muttered. “So, uh… how do we fix this?”

Kimya chuckled. “Have sex, you must, to reverse the Amomuta’s curse.”

Noctis’ jaw dropped, Kimya breaking out into a series of choked chortles. He screwed up his face, taking a step back. “That isn’t a funny joke.”

“A joke it is not, I’m afraid. Having sex with the one you swapped, the cure is.”

Noctis laughed uncomfortably. _“Please_ tell me we can just… buy your remedies and that’ll fix this whole mess. Please?”

“Unfortunately, no effect, time and magic will have. Permanent, the curse is, lest action is taken.” Kimya gave him a pitying smile and shook her head. “Understand, they will. Excited, they may be.”

“Yeah, _excited,_ sure.” Noctis turned around, heading back to the others without bothering to hide his grimace. “Ignis is going to _kill_ me.”

* * *

_“Absolutely not.”_

Ignis’ face was aflame, accenting Prompto’s freckles nicely despite the scandalized expression. Gladio and Prompto weren’t much better, with the former practically choking from laughter and the latter blushing just as furiously.

“That’s what Kimya told me.” Noctis shrugged helplessly. “I mean, we can _try_ a remedy, or just wait and hope this fixes itself, but from what she told me that’s not gonna work.”

“I am not having… _sex_ with any of you! It’s highly improper, and a complete waste of time!” Ignis spluttered, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“I mean…” Prompto shrugged. “It’s not the _weirdest_ thing we could do.”

“The hell would be the weirder than this?” Noctis asked.

“I don’t know, having to find the thing again and make out with it? How would we even do that?”

“This isn’t much better, Prompto!” Ignis reflexively went to adjust his glasses, only to nearly poke his eyes out.

“Eh, it isn’t _too_ bad.” Gladio shrugged. “I mean, it’s a one-night thing. And it’s not like you’re seeing something you’ve never seen before.”

“Says the man who, and I quote, ‘still only knows the company of his own hand.’”

Gladio scoffed and looked away.

“Did you have, like, ten different girlfriends?” Noctis asked.

“Most of the time it was just one date, or we tried to meet up again but it simply didn’t work. Nothin’ I could do about it.”

Prompto smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes as he patted Gladio’s back. “Well, at least we can solve _that_ problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, I made it fade to black because it was getting WAAAAAY too long and it was getting really awkward and weird to write the actual sex (I quickly realized why there aren't a lot of body swap fics lmao).
> 
> Anyways, it's just my personal headcannon that Gladio and Ignis are virgins at the beginning of their journey to Altissia, while Prompto and Noctis fooled around a bit and got past all the awkward humps with each other. 
> 
> BTW, the Amamuto is not a monster that exists in game, for anyone curious. It was just something I made up to get the status, and I even got the name from smashing together the latin translated terms for "love" and "change"


	9. Day 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Prostitution, age gap (Prompto is around 18 years old, while Noctis is meant to be in his 30s).

“Hey, the Raven’s back.”

Prompto blinked at his own reflection, his upper lip painted black with lipstick. He looked at the door of the common room and tilted his head at Aranea. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Aranea nodded and placed a hand on her hip, smiling gently. “I think you’ve got him hook, line, and orgasm, Chocobo.”

Prompto rolled his eyes and applied the rest of his lipstick, rubbings them together to make it a bit more even. Aranea let him continue, but asked, “In all seriousness, he bothering you?”

“Nah, he’s okay. I’ll ask him if he’s seriously going to keep coming back and burning his money.”

“Like that’s a _bad_ thing.” Aranea chuckled and waved, stepping away from the doorway. “Good luck, Chocobo!”

Prompto mockingly blew her a kiss, ignoring the giggles from some of the other prostitutes around him. It wasn’t a secret that he was considered Aranea’s ‘favorite,’ but it was hardly something he took advantage of. The silver haired woman liked him, probably because a fair amount of the money he got went to making sure the Foreigner’s Respite was up and running.

It was far from the finest line of work, but it was something Prompto had been doing for years, and the pay made it worthwhile. He’d tried normal jobs in high school, but even Insomnia, a beacon of home and exceptional tastes, was still incredibly xenophobic. No one would give a ‘dirty immigrant’ like him the time of day, even though he knew nothing _but_ Lucis.

Guess blonde hair, pale skin and freckles was enough to label him. Not like the freaking barcode tattoo on his wrist wasn’t obvious enough.

But at the Foreigner’s Respite, he could get guaranteed pay, especially since a lot of the gay clientele adored him. Aranea liked him too, and could sympathize heavily with his plight, which made working there pretty okay, even though he lied about his age when starting there. At first, he was uncomfortable, and thought he’d be stuck working there for the rest of his life, bound by a contract to keep having sex over and over again.

But Aranea wasn’t like that. There was no contract, and though she quickly sniffed out his fake ID, she let him stay and told him, repeatedly, that he didn’t need to come back. But he kept coming back, and he… started to feel _excited_ to work a night. Back when he was still in high school, after shaving off pound after pound, it was the best way he could afford the bills and groceries, and he used that as justification. He was just excited to not have to worry about everything he’d needed for the month.

Then his bills were heftily covered, and it became the best way for him to save up for college. And then he started college, but still didn’t pursue a normal job. Hell, his parents were gone months at a time, and were rarely both home. They didn’t care about him, or what he was doing—they never did, and never would—and he’d built up a decent rapport with the others working there.

It helped that he could turn down clients, if he wanted. If they were too pushy, if they were disgusting, or if Prompto had a bad gut feeling (and his gut was never wrong), he could deny them, tell Aranea, and they’d be told, under no uncertain terms, that they were not allowed to return. Some took the warning to heart, others didn’t.

No one asked about the ones who didn’t.

But Raven… he was different. Prompto was the first one he approached upon coming to the Foreigner’s Respite, gave him _well_ above what Prompto normally put his prices at, and he just… kept coming back. It was odd that clients came back more than twice, and even rarer that they requested the same person every time they came, and practically unheard of to pay more than what they were offering. He didn’t give his name, and he even wore a mask, refusing to take it off through every encounter. Prompto kept a small diary of every person he’d ever ‘pleased,’ and he was pretty sure this would be sixth one marked “Mystery Man Raven.”

“It’s weird,” Lucinda commented from the seat next to Prompto, brushing her long hair until it was straight and even, not a single strand out of place. She was only a few years older than Prompto, and they’d been close friends ever since he’d started working here. “I mean, who comes back these many times just for one person?”

“I hope that’s not a dig at me.” Prompto commented, putting a pair of faux sapphire earring studs on. Some clients liked it when he looked a bit dolled up, some didn’t. He normally wasn’t dressed in any ‘fancy’ clothes or make-up, but he wasn’t expecting Raven to show up tonight and he wasn’t about to half-ass his look.

“It’s not, but… c’mon, this is _weird._ He’s either desperate for a routine or his completely addicted to you.”

“Well, at least I’m helping Aranea out with the crazy bonuses he gives.” Prompto double checked his mascara and blush, making sure it didn’t look gaudy, before heading out of the room. “See ya.”

“Good luck!” Prompto waved over his shoulder at Lucinda. The short nightgown he’d put on swished around his upper thighs, barely covering his ass. He walked out of the back room and into the main lobby, spotting Raven amongst the typical clientele. He wore his signature mask—a black skull with various, intricate gold carvings of swirls and various small symbols—along with a full pressed suit, his hair evenly parted and framing his hidden face. Prompto would gladly make every session with Raven free if it meant he could see his face.

Raven rose to his feet, meeting Prompto at the base of the stairs, gently brushing Prompto’s hair behind his ear, his fingers brushing against his earrings. “You look… _nice.”_

Prompto smirked, taking Raven’s hand and leading him up the stairs. “I’m glad you appreciated the effort. Now then,” Prompto leaned closer, whispering in his ear, “what would you like to do to me tonight?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God Promptis is my OTP and I didn't even make them do the dirty smh.


	10. Day 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Implied public sex

Their relationship was simple on every level.

On the surface, what they presented to everyone else, was that Noctis was to be the active prince and participating, while Ignis played on the sidelines and aided him along the way.

However, behind doors, Ignis craved for control and domination, while Noctis wanted nothing more than to relinquish everything and let go of the stress of the day. Sometimes, they blurred the lines between that surface level and private life for an added thrill. Neither of them wanted to be discovered (Astrals knew the consequences if they were), but it was something they were careful about, hoping beyond hope that the risk was worth the reward.

That morning, Ignis had laid his clothes out for him. It was his standard suit and tie for the citadel meetings, but there was a black gift box sat on top of it, just begging to be opened. Noctis, in all his half-asleep glory, opened it and pulled out the sheer fabric within it. It took a good minute of staring before he figured out what he was holding before he blushed furiously, dropped it back into the box, and slammed the lid close.

Noctis pulled out his phone, hastily opening the private messaging app for him and Ignis.

> **Noctis:** are you fucking serious???
> 
> **Ignis:** Good morning, darling.
> 
> **Noctis:** ignis, c’mon, i’m not going to last five minutes, let alone three meetings before lunch, and then the other three after.
> 
> **Ignis:** Well, if you’re good, the reward will be quite worth the effort to restrain yourself.
> 
> **Ignis:** Good luck, luv. ;)

“Smug prick _.”_ Noctis half-heartedly hissed at his phone. With a blush still high on his cheeks, Noctis opened the box and took out the delicate lace panties, pink stockings, and a corset. He put on everything below the belt first—the undergarments, his pants, his shoes—and struggled to tie the corset tight enough to be fit properly.

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and paused, admiring his slimmer waist and accentuated hips. Putting on the shirt and jacket, the changes were lost underneath the layers, but he could still feel it and, if he thrust his chest out a bit, he could see the faint outline of the corset’s edge.

Already he was half-hard, the silk panties creating a phantom friction between his legs. It had really only been a few minutes, maybe longer since he struggled with tightening the corset on his own. Today was going to be _awful._

The only saving grace was the promise of a reward at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Why did I dedicate an entire prompt to lingerie when I don't like lingerie in the slightest._


End file.
